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* * *

Damn the man, Kyrie thought, a passenger in the back of the panther's mind, even as Dire lunged at her and tossed her aside, while he rounded on Tom.

Kyrie landed heavily on a scruffy front lawn, and tried to get up. And couldn't. At first she thought she must be paralyzed, and then she realized Tom wasn't moving either. After issuing his challenge and leaping, he'd landed heavily, as if he couldn't control his paws, and now was half lying on the street, while Dire circled around him, growling, with every appearance of enjoyment.

He was going to kill Tom, she realized. He was in their minds. He was controlling them. And he was going to kill Tom. And then probably kill her.

Don't be silly, Kitten Girl, his voice said in her mind, with a suggestion of indecent laughter. That would be a waste.

She wanted to get up. She tried with all her mind and heart to get up. But she couldn't. She couldn't move.

And then, from above, came the flap of wings.

 

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Framed